


Kiss It Better

by JulyStorms



Series: Before Colors Broke into Shades [19]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyStorms/pseuds/JulyStorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi comes down with a stomach flu and empties the contents of his stomach all over Hange's lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “I’m gonna be sick.” Levihan. Requested anonymously on Tumblr. And “Love is illogical; it means nothing to me.” Levihan. Requested by Obsessiveotakupowersactivate on Tumblr. (They moved URLs or deleted and I'm not sure who they are now.)
> 
> Silliness. I’m a little sorry for this one.

Levi only gave her a few seconds of warning.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he said, and then puked all over her.

The sight almost made _her_ want to puke; the way his now-unidentifiable breakfast dripped down her pants and into her boots was probably the worst part.

“Fuck,” he muttered, gagging again and turning his head.

She caught just a glimpse of his expression: he seemed horrified and embarrassed, and, having never really seen these things before, at least not on Levi’s face, she kind of felt sorry for him. “I didn’t think your tiny belly could hold that much food,” she tried joking, and got to her feet, which made the vomit slide to the floor of her lab office.

Levi groaned and fished in his pocket for his handkerchief, which he pressed tightly to his mouth.

“Now I actually _do_ need a shower,” she said, half to herself, and took off her boots, grabbing a rag from the bookshelf next to her to wipe out the insides. “And I’ll have to take these down to have them cleaned…”

Levi made another sound—almost plaintive. Perhaps a request for her to please shut the hell up.

She ignored it, mostly because he had puked all over her. Considering that, she should be allowed to complain a little. It was good-natured complaining, anyway.

“Well,” she said when her boots were cleaner and she had scraped most of the puke off of her pants (trying, the entire time, to pretend it was just water that was cooling against her leg and not the remains of Levi’s breakfast), “let’s get you all cleaned up.”

“I don’t need your help,” he muttered from behind his handkerchief—at least, that was what it sounded like to her.

She rolled her eyes, “If you didn’t want my help you would have already fled for the washroom.”

He grunted a disagreement but she just grinned and led him to the washroom, then went to his room to get him a change of clothes. She returned to find that he had puked all over the floor—and not even in the shower. Levi was half-gagging on his hands and knees, wrapped only in a towel as he tried to clean it up.

“Stop doing that,” she said. “I’ll get it, but you’ll owe me after this.”

When he turned to look at her, she noticed that his face was unnaturally pale, and that even though he was probably attempting to glare at her, he mostly resembled a tired, sick cat.

“Here are your clothes,” she said, and pushed them at him. “Wash your mouth out, here’s one of those stupid minty things you like—go to bed and shut up and behave. I’ll clean this mess up.”

For once, he listened to her, and she spent the next hour cleaning up the washroom, and then the floor and chair of her lab office, and another hour scrubbing herself clean in a hot bath, because cold water just would not cut it after feeling coated in vomit.

When she finally made it back to Levi’s room, she found, to her complete and utter surprise, that he was actually asleep.

She had only known him for three years, but she had been convinced, at least in part, that the man never slept; it seemed that, at best some nights, he would allow his eyes a chance to rest.

He didn’t stir even when she came into his room and felt his forehead and tucked his blankets, which had been half knocked onto the floor, back around his shoulders.

He was kind of cute asleep. Younger-looking. Almost peaceful. She brushed his hair back and on impulse, leaned down to press her lips against the top of his head.

Except that she had woken him up somehow, and he tilted his head back to look at her. When she pulled away from kissing the tip of his nose, he was staring at her in something that wasn’t quite horror…and not quite confusion, either. There really wasn’t a word for it. He probably thought he was dreaming.

“The hell are you doing?” he asked her.

“Kissing you better again.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m gross and that’s gross and don’t do that to sick people.”

“So you’re saying I should do it when you’re not sick?”

“You’re going to get sick, shitty-glasses,” he said.

“I’m impervious to disease,” she said. “There’s no point in kissing you if you’re not sick.”

“Right,” he said, “I nearly forgot. Love means nothing to you. It’s illogical. You don’t believe in it.”

“I never said that,” she said, grinning. “You really _are_ sick, though, saying something like that. You’re usually such a romantic.”

Levi groaned. “You don’t make any sense.”

“I’m not the one with a raging fever,” she said.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“Because you’re sick and need taken care of.”

“I’m a thirty-one year old man. I don’t need taken care of.”

“Yes you do. You’re delusional, spouting off things about love and who knows what. Also you puked all over me.”

He pulled a pillow over his face.

Hange reached down and tried to pry it from his fingers. “Suffocating yourself to hide from the embarrassment is not a good idea.”

“You are a dream.”

“A good dream,” she said, grinning at his muffled pillow-voice. “The best dream. It would have been better if you’d have just let me kiss you better.”

“Grown adults don’t do that shit,” he complained, letting go of the pillow suddenly; she stumbled backward but managed to right herself.

“Sure they do. I’m an adult, and I just did it.”

“You’re going to get sick,” he said.

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation already.”

“Whatever. Go to sleep.”

“Levi, _you’re_ the sick one. _You_ need to sleep, not me.”

“Then. Well. Stop trying to confuse me, shitty-glasses!”

“It’s working, though. You’re kind of cute when you’re sick…in a terrifying sort of way.”

“Sick people should be allowed to rest.”

“If you let me kiss you better than I’ll go rest.”

“Fine,” he said. “I don’t care if you get sick. But I’m not cleaning it up when you spew chunks all over the mess hall.”

She grinned and, to get him back for shifting so that her kiss bumped his nose, she leaned down to press her lips to his face, saying, “Mwah!” exaggeratedly as she kissed each cheek once.

“Ugh,” he said.

She poked his cheeks with her index fingers. “I can’t tell if you’re blushing or if it’s the fever.”

“It’s the goddamned fever, four-eyes. Now go away like you said you would.”

“You owe me,” she said, but patted his head before she left.

* * *

 

Five days later, Hange was sitting in the mess hall when suddenly her stomach lurched. She covered her mouth, turned to Levi and said, “I’m gonna—“

And then she puked her just-eaten porridge all over him.


End file.
